


You Miss Your Dad

by tKing (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Angry John, Bro is a dick as always, BroJohn - Freeform, But He Gets There, Car Accidents, Childhood Trauma, Dad Egbert dies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, maybe eventual smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-08-31 17:06:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8586733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tKing
Summary: Your name is John Egbert, and you've been an orphan since you were 13. You're 22 and a half now, and of course you're not in an orphanage anymore, but you can't help but think about your past.





	1. Introduction

Your name is John Egbert, and you've been an orphan since you were 13. You're 22 and a half now, and of course you're not in an orphanage anymore, but you can't help but think about your past.

When you turned 13, at first, it was a happy day. Your dad baked you an actually really good cake (despite how you usually despise the sugary monstrosities), as well as he got you more materials for your usual pranks. Later in the day, you and your father got into the car to go to some prank store, just for you. But of course, something did happen. A car wreck. You were in the back seat when you suddenly heard screeching of tires skidding on the road. The last thing you remember of that incident to this day is the red pools leaking from the driver's seat.

 

Your name is John Egbert and you don't think you've ever been the same after that.  
It was like reality's cruel way of showing that people do indeed die.  
A grim reminder that lives are often taken, and no matter who you talk to, to not get attached.

 

Everyone dies eventually.

 

Maybe you're just being pessimistic, but when your dad, and only parent, dies when you're 13, things change in your perspective of the world.

 

When you turned 19, you left the orphanage, got a job, and eventually a house of your own. It's not that big, but it sure as hell is better than nothing. It reminds you of your old home. Maybe that's why you like it so much.

 

When you turned 20, you moved to Texas. Washington got suffocating with memories, so you moved to Texas to forget about it all. You know it's not that easy, but you're going to try anyway. You meet a man named Dave at a starbucks who's around your age and become friends with him. He says he's going to an art college. You lie to him, and tell him and tell him you're going to try to get a Master's Teaching Degree. The truth is, you never even got to go to high-school. He buys it and starts talking about his other friends, and then finally, about his brother.

 

You guess you want to say his brother sounds like a douche, but some of the things Dave says he does sounds like something you would have done when you were younger. Pranks and all. So, you bite your tongue and let Dave talk his lungs out until you two finally part ways and you go to your new house.

 

Sometimes when you got home, you'd silently cry. Sometimes you'd forget your dad was dead, has been dead for 7 years, and go to call out for him and then suddenly have flash backs. You'd start sobbing uncontrollably into your knees.

 

You miss him. You regret how negatively you ever acted to him. You want your dad back, but that's impossible, sadly enough.

 

When you turned 21, Dave invited you over to his house for the first time. He offered to come pick you up and drive you there, and you agreed on that. In the car Dave tells you to just ignore his brother, and that he acts like a 40-year-old child. You laugh a bit at the wording that Dave uses.

 

You get there and meet his brother, who makes some shitty one-liner while Dave groans. You lightly smile, it was a nice gesture, you guess. Dave drags you to his room and you two play video games, and even though you don't really understand them, you don't speak up.

 

His brother, or as Dave just calls him, Bro, pulled "pranks" on dave, such as dropping a lot of plush puppets on dave from a trap door on the ceiling, and other things like that just to annoy Dave. It made your stomach curl into an uncomfortable knot, remembering how you used to play pranks on your dad just to annoy him, as well. Though you don't say anything about that and keep the facade up. If no one knows, no one can use it against you. You'd smile and laugh when you feel it was appropiate. Dave drove you home and once you got inside and was sure he drove off, you leaned against the door and cried again, wailed even. You wish you weren't like this.

 

When you turned 22 you went to a bar for the first time and ordered all the hard liqour they had. You lightly sipped some whiskey, lost in though for a moment before a somewhat familiar voice snapped you out of your daze.

 

"Hey yo, Egbert, right?"

 

You turned your head to see Dave's bro walking over to you. You simply nodded, silently hoping that he was just checking and was about to leave.

 

But you knew your hopes were never going to be a reality

 

"What's a kid like you doin here with, what, about 20 bottles of moonshine in front of 'ya?" He asked, sitting down at the table you were sitting at. You sighed.

 

"And why's a 40 year old man in a bar?" You said bitterly. You took a shot of the vodka on your left. You want him to go away.

 

"Aw, come on, can't an old dude have fun too?" He said jokingly, and he took one of the many kinds of alcohol you bought and began to lightly drink it. You honestly didn't care. You also didn't answer him.

 

"Anyway, kid." He put the bottle down and looked at you, somewhat sternly. You didn't like it. It reminded you all too much of your dad. It made you sick. "Do your parents even know you're here?"

 

That was the million dollar question. He hit the nail of the head.

 

"Just." You gripped the bottle a bit harder than you meant to. "Shut." You grit your teeth. "The fuck." You turned to glare at him, words laced with thorns that reeked danger. "U p." You hissed the last part. He needs to know how over the line he went. But instead of telling him what he did wrong, you get up and take the bottle of vodka you were holding with you, only once looking back a him over your shoulder. He seemed to be so surprised that he was still taking it in. Good. Hopefully he won't talk to you ever again. You don't want to see him anymore.

 

You go home and chug the whole bottle down. You're not drunk enough. You end up smashing the bottle on the table and then go curl up in your bed and cry so hard you almost scream into your pillow. You've never really dealt with most of your memories, but they're all coming back to you and it's too much.

 

Now you're 22 and a half and a fucking mess. You haven't left your house in months. You also haven't talked to anyone in months.

 

You

 

Miss

 

Your

 

Dad


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro steps on EVEN MORE FEELINGS and comes into conclusion that, yep, he's a huge fucking asshole.  
> //Heyyyy it's ya boy back at it again. here's the next chapter of this. Have fun ;)

Your name is Broderrick Strider, otherwise known as Bro, for short, and you’re pretty worried for Dave’s friend.

 

Dave said John had been missing.

You’d understand Egbert not talking to you, but him not even slightly contacting Dave had been weird.

 

You feel somewhat responsible for whatever actually did happen. You hadn’t told Dave about that night so many months ago, and he says that the day after, John stopped answering his messages, which honestly makes you feel like a complete asshole.

Dave told you about this months ago and he’s starting to get more and more frantic because John still hasn’t come back.

 

It’s been 7 months.

 

You thought that’d he’d eventually come back.

 

You thought you knew he would.

 

But your mind seems to have been proven wrong.

 

“Hey, Dave” You call out to him from his door frame. He seemed to not have noticed you when you got there, so when you spoke up, he visibly flinched. He’s been on edge ever since John went missing.

Dave turned around in his computer chair, the chair beneath him squeaking slightly as he moved it, and raised an eyebrow, prompting for you to go ahead.

 

“I could go check on Egbert for you, if you know where he lives.” You suggested.

“You’d do that?” Dave asked, seeming a bit relieved at the simple suggestion. You nodded in response.

“But… What if he did some bad shit to himself..? Or if he’s de…” He trailed off, seeming to not want to think about what he was just about to say.

“Nah, the brat’s probably hiding behind his parents or some shit.” You say, almost certain that’s what’s really happening. You hope it is, at least.

Dave nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But… why? Why would he just run off like this, and christ, for seven-fucking-months?!” He semi-yelled. You flash-stepped in front of him and patted his head. He was really upset about this, wasn’t he?

 

“Dude. Chill. I’ll check up on him. He’s probably at home like I said. That reason he ditched you like that was probably pretty stupid and he just probably hasn’t realized how dumb it really was yet.” You say smoothly, but your stomach is already tying itself into an anxious not thinking about how you probably caused this.

Dave nods again. “Yeah. Yeah you’re right. Sorry. Anyway, his address is 413 main street. It’s a house with an ocean blue roof. I would go but I don’t think I’d be able to confront him at this point..” He sighs deeply in defeat.

“No problem lil dude.” You say as you quickly abscond out of the room.

 

You get in your car and start driving. You briefly wonder how John’s parents are. Maybe they were really strict on him as a kid and he gone through an edgy teen phase. That’s a pretty funny thought, actually. Or maybe his parents are super cheery and annoying. You shiver at that. Those are some of the worst kinds of parents. ‘hey jimmy welcome home from baseball practice there are 27 apple pies in the fridge when you want them!’ ‘mom I don’t even like apple pie’ ‘oh don’t worry, there’s also 52 chocolate cakes in there as well have fuuuun!’

 

Damn you were so distracted with this character development that you didn’t even realize you’d arrived at egberts house. It’s much more dull than you thought it’d be. There IS an ocean blue roof, though. None of the house lights are one it seems, and it sounds deathly quiet. Not even tv from what’d you’d assume would be the living room from behind the door. From the outside, it looks like the house has an upstairs, as well. You forget that this is not your house, so instead of knocking, you just open the door.

 

It was unlocked. That’s… concerning.

 

If the outside was dull, the inside looked even duller and much more dreary. You could barely see anything as you tiptoed inside and shut the door behind you. You check the clock on your phone. It’s only 12 pm and it’s still this dark in here. Damn.

You use your phone light as your only basic source of light. You step on something with a crunch and stumble back a bit. “shit!” You harshly whisper out, darting the phone screen from in front of you to whatever you just stepped on. It looked like glass from some liquor bottle, but there seems to be no blood around it, so that’s good.

Suddenly, a horrible pain in your abdomen blossoms forth and you’re slammed into the closest wall. You realize you were just jabbed in your stomach by an elbow. As you’re pushed so harshly into the wall you start coughing bECAUSE WOW DAMN THAT KNOCKED THE BREATH OUT OF YOU O W. Your phone hits the floor as you’re pinned to the wall and wheezing your guts out. You squint at the figure who had pinned you in the first place.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you in m-”

 

“John?” You asked between wheezes and coughs, interrupting him mid-sentence.

“...Bro?” He asked in pure confusion, anger dying down but still there. “Why the fuck are you here?!” He hissed out. John would have yelled, if his voice wasn’t drained from crying earlier.

“Dave was worried about you, so I came to check on you.” You said sternly, you didn’t tell him how you were concerned as well.

 

John stayed quiet, although not contemplating, just watching. Trying to figure out what you were going to do next.

“Where are your parents, anyway?”

 

John was silent.

“Oh wait, did you run away from them or something? Aren’t you, like, 17 or something kid? That a bit young to be starting a life somewhere besides home.”

 

John’s so quiet.

“I bet your mom is worr-”

 

“I don’t think you understand what happening here, or what’s ever happened to me.” John growled out, cutting you off.

“No, no, I do. You’re some edgy teen who ran away from home because ‘no one cared’” The words that left your mouth laced with thorns and needles.

John’s glare could kill an army. “‘Edgy’ is so fucking off target that, wow, hats off, give him a FUCKING award.” He begins. “EDGY is NOT waking up and your dad isn’t there any fucking more. EDGY IS NOT seeing your father’s blood trickle from his PROBABLY FUCKING I M P A L E D, LIMP BODY IN THE DRIVERS SEAT AT THE RIPE AGE OF THIRTEEN. EDGY IS NOT HAVING MENTAL FUCKING PROBLEMS FROM THE INCIDENT. EDGY IS NOT BEING IN AN ORPHANAGE FOR MOST OF YOUR LIFE. EDGY IS N O T WHEN YOU CRY YOURSELF TO SLEEP AT NIGHT BECAUSE YOU JUST WANT YOUR FUCKING FATHER AND ONLY PARENT BACK!” If your words were thorns, then John’s were bombs. One after another going off.

Oh god. Wow now you’ve gone and done it. You are legit a terrible fucking person. Shit.

 

John backs up a bit as his breath hitches and tear prick in the corners of his eyes.

You reach over and grab his arm before he can abscond and pull him into an awkward hug. You still feel like a gigantic dick, so this is how you can try to atone for it. John resists at first, but eventually gives in and clings to your shirt as he quietly, almost silently sobs. You briefly wonder how long he’s been learning how to do that. You rub comforting circles into his back as you two slowly sink down onto the floor. After a while, John calms down and lets go of your shirt, now just kind of slumping there on your chest. That’s kind of really cute???

“Hey.. Uh, sorry for the sudden breakdown and that elbow to your abdomen..” John mumbles out with a somewhat steady voice.

 

“Nah it’s ok. I over-stepped boundaries and I should have knocked.” You replied, waving your hand dismissively.

“Yeah… I can get you ice for it if you want.” John suggests, clearly feeling bad about the whole thing. You have a feeling you won’t be able to say no.

“Alright. Sure.”

 

You two get up and head to what you assume to be the kitchen and John quickly gets out an ice pack wrapped in a pillowcase to you as he looks away.

 

“Hey, John? Why do you try to avoid looking at me?”

“You remind me of him. My dad, I mean.”

“Ah.” You reply as you apply the cold pack of ice to the area that’s probably going to be bruised tomorrow.

 

“You can stay here if you want.” John says simply. Although he mumbles “It does get really lonely here.”

“Yeah sure.” You owe the kid because you’re still astonished at how much of an asshole you were. You and John talked about this and that, small random things. You made sure to try and avoid any conflicting conversations for John. Eventually, you guys were on the topic of age.

“So how old are you, anyway? You’re probably not 17 like I said back there.” You ask.

 

“I’m actually 22. It’s hard to keep up with my birthdays, though.” He replies.

 

The two of you had brought the conversation over to the couch in his living room.

“I know you’re in your 40s, but which one? Y’know, like 43? 45?” John asked with pure curiosity.

“Jeez kid, it’s rude to ask a ladies age” You say sarcastically, hovering your hand over your head like a damsel in distress.

“Hehe! Ok but really!” He exclaims. You’re glad he found that funny. Fuck are you fallin for this dork?

“Alright, fine. I’m 44. Happy?” You groan out.

“Cool! Anyway, i’m pretty tired. You can sleep on the couch. I mean, if you’re ok with that!” He says as he gets up and stretches. He goes upstairs to sleep after you confirm that you’re fine with the kid and send dave a quick text so he doesn’t think you died or something.

 

You take a pillow and smother your face with it.

 

You’re falling for this damned kid.


End file.
